35. Serena #2
As I'm talking, I notice Audrey sliding closer to Logan bit by bit on their side of the booth. It's subtle—a tiny shift every few seconds—but undeniable. Her shoulder is almost touching his now, and there's a flush creeping up her neck.
Logan seems oblivious. He's nodding enthusiastically at my business idea, completely unaware of Audrey's migration into his personal space.
"The market definitely needs more authentic crisis management," he says, pushing his glasses up. "Most firms just do damage control without addressing the underlying—oh, shit!"
He seems to suddenly realize how close Audrey has gotten. He jerks upright, bumping the table and sloshing champagne.
"Sorry!" he blurts, nearly tripping as he slides out of the booth. "I didn't mean to—I was taking up too much space. You probably need room to breathe."
Audrey's face falls for a split second before she recovers with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "You're fine, Logan. There's plenty of space. I don't mind you pressed against me."
"No, no, I should stand anyway. Been sitting too long." He smooths his shirt, looking everywhere but at her. "Anyone need another drink? I'm heading to the bar. Audrey? You look thirsty."
She stares at him for a long moment, heat climbing her cheeks. "You know what?" She stands abruptly. "I give up. I just...I give up!"
She stalks toward the exit, leaving us staring.
Logan blinks at her retreating form. "What's she giving up on?"
The silence is deafening.
"What?" he asks again. "Seriously, what did I miss?"
"Oh my God," Layla breathes. "You really don't know?"
"Know what?"
Dominic leans forward, speaking slowly. "She's been trying to get your attention all night."
"My attention?"
"She likes you, you absolute moron," Bennett says. "She's been flirting with you for months."
Logan's face cycles through confusion, realization, horror, and finally panic. "Oh. Oh fuck."
"There it is," Caleb murmurs.
"She—but I thought—I mean—" Logan stands so fast he nearly knocks over his chair. "I have to go. I have to find her."
"She probably went home," I call after him.
"Then I'll go there!" he shouts, already halfway to the door.
"Well," Dominic says, settling back satisfied. "That was entertaining." He raises his glass. "I hope they finally bang."
"Dom!" Layla smacks his arm, fighting a smile.
"What? We're all thinking it. Those two have been dancing around each other forever. Someone needed to give Logan a push."
"That wasn't a push, it was a nuclear detonation," I say, watching Logan disappear.
"Twenty bucks says he shows up at her apartment with flowers and a rambling apology," Bennett says.
"Make it fifty," Dominic counters. "But I say he brings lab equipment. Something sciencey and romantic."
"Lab equipment isn't romantic," Layla protests.
"It is if you're Logan," Caleb points out.
"And Audrey would probably love that," I laugh, settling against Caleb's side.
"Those two are perfect for each other," Layla says. "They just need to get out of their own way."
"Don't we all," I murmur, feeling Caleb's hand slip to my knee under the table.
"Speaking of perfect pairs," Dominic says, waggling his eyebrows, "when's the housewarming? I need to know how much time I have to find the most inappropriate gift possible."
"We haven't even finished unpacking," I protest.
"Details," Dominic waves dismissively. "I'm thinking handcuffs and a congratulatory card."
"Please don't," Caleb says, but he's laughing.
I tilt my head at Caleb and he leans in close.
"Dance with me," he says, breath warm against my neck.
"I thought you were keeping your hands off me in public," I remind him, already standing.
"I never agreed to that deal," he says, pulling me toward the dance floor. "You made an offer. I never accepted."
We reach the edge of the dance floor and he turns, hands settling on my waist. I loop my arms around his neck.
"I suppose I'll have to console myself with knowing I can have my way with you whenever I want now that we're living together."
"Scandalous."
"That's not even half of it," he says, mouth brushing my ear. "The only thing left is convincing you to be my wife and have my babies."
The words are light, playful, but there's a question hiding underneath.
"You know what?" I say, surprising myself. "I'm not opposed to the idea."
He stills, eyes searching my face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I smile up at him. "But let's just be us for a couple years first. It took us so long to get here, I'm not ready to share you yet."
His answering smile could power the entire city. "I can live with that."
"Good," I say, pulling him closer. "Because I love you, Caleb Kingsley. Just you. Just us. Just this."
"I love you too, Serena Morgan," he whispers, then he's kissing me right there on the dance floor, soft and sweet and full of promises.
And as the music swells around us and the lights of Chicago twinkle below, I know that this—this messy, imperfect, absolutely perfect love—is exactly what I want. I'm not going anywhere.
Finally.